Freefall: January
by lastknownwriter
Summary: In which our favorite kindergarten teacher Dean worships at the altar of his firefighter Cas. It's less religious than it sounds. (A 'Freefall' continuation.)


January 24

The news broadcast flickered brightly in the darkened family room (or parlor, as Cas had taken to calling it in a stupidly sexy British accent). The screen was filled with riotous orange and gold flames, red strobes spinning atop the firetrucks when the camera panned away. Long arcs of water and foam discharged over the fire, yellow-slickered men manning hoses and dotting the parking lot behind the news crew.

The sound was turned low, so as not to disturb the sleeping baby curled into a warm ball on Dean's shoulder. She turned her face into his neck and sighed contentedly, drawing chubby little legs up to her belly. He patted her butt and nudged the rocker into a soothing motion, scanning the wide screen for a familiar stance, a beloved profile.

He glanced up in surprise when he heard the front door open and close. The jangle of keys hit the piecrust table in the foyer, then boots were kicked off with a soft thud-thud. Seconds later, a lean body filled the family room doorway.

"What are you doing home so early?" Dean asked softly, pulse kicking up, a mixture of surprise and gladness. And heat.

Cas grinned tiredly and crossed the room, dropping a kiss to the sleeping baby's dark head and leaning across Dean for the remote.

Dean waited for his kiss.

And waited.

Cas took his time fiddling with the buttons in the dark before he succeeded in turning off the TV, his free hand massaging the back of Dean's neck. The light from the foyer cast a warm glow across the pair in the rocking chair. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't do this anymore." He tossed the remote onto the couch. "You'll have nightmares."

Dean shrugged lightly. "It gives me nightmares anyway."

Cas frowned and bent over, pulling lightly on Dean's head until their lips met, smoothing away lingering fear and nerves and nudging to life the spark that always hummed between them, just below the surface. He was instantly enveloped with the scent of Dean, warm and masculine, laced with motor oil and baby powder.

When he straightened, his breathing was slightly labored, and it was Dean's turn to frown.

"You doing okay?"

Cas nodded, brushing a finger across the light flush in Dean's cheeks, a physical symptom of the push and pull between them. He wondered if his skin bore the same. Dean had a way about him, stripping the air from his lungs and filling him with something else, something Cas craved, constantly. His eyes darkened as he combed his nails through the hair at Dean's nape. "I don't want you watching fire coverage anymore. Okay?"

Dean's scalp tingled with each scrape of fingertip, skin tightening in anticipation, knowing those hands would be on him, everywhere, soon. "I'll try."

"You'll do more than try," Cas growled low, kissing him again, hungry, possessive, day-old stubble scraping across chin and jaw, tongue ruthless, tangled, clinging.

Dean followed Cas' withdrawal, prompting one more kiss before the other man stepped away. He neatly avoided agreeing to the command. "How'd you get off early, if they're all still downtown? Pretty sure that was Rufus' ugly mug there by the hoses."

Cas shrugged, lifting his arms overhead, stretching his ribcage gingerly. He was still prone to easy exhaustion and suffered twinges of soreness. He had only been back at work for a week, and the long shifts were taking a toll on his stamina. He wasn't in the same shape as before. "Rufus made me come home."

Dean smiled, secretly grateful to the chief. He made a mental note to treat him to lunch with two kinds of pie very soon. "Good."

Cas rolled his eyes and held out a hand. "Good for you? Or the citizens of Sioux Falls?"

Dean let him pull him to his feet, keeping the baby carefully nestled against his chest, arm going around Cas' shoulders when he dropped his forehead to the baby's back, inhaling deeply.

They stood in the dark room for a long, quiet moment, parents and infant, curled around each other, a single unit.

"Let me put her down," Dean said quietly, hand sliding down to squeeze a firm hip.

Then their mouths were moving together, soft and warm and damp, unhurried, until Dean pushed Cas gently aside with a low moan and a breathless laugh. "Hold that thought." He grinned when Cas fondled his ass as he stepped around him.

"Hurry."

Dani, being a good sleeper and an even-tempered baby, rolled onto her side when Dean laid her in her crib. He floated a light blanket across her lower half and brushed his palm over her downy head. Her hair was starting to lengthen and curl at the base of her skull and around her ears. Her plump little cheeks were perpetually rosy and she was the proud owner of four tiny teeth, flashed with regularity as she was nearly always smiling.

She was quite simply the prettiest baby Dean had ever seen. He patted her back gently before he left the nursery, flipping on the monitor as he carried it to the room next door. The old Singer house was large and spacious, with four bedrooms upstairs and one down. It had taken some careful negotiation to come to an agreement on room placement; Jake had wanted to be as far away from everyone as possible, of course, and had urged Dean and Cas to choose the ground floor bedroom for themselves. Cas wanted both kids close, fire always upmost in his mind, and vetoed the separation idea immediately.

His glittery-eyed vehemence on the subject made Dean want to smoosh them all together and live commune style. Cas managed to convince him during one extra long, middle of the night shower that perhaps some privacy was warranted if they were all to keep their sanity. So they had ultimately compromised by occupying the bedrooms on the second floor, with Jake at one end and Dani's nursery next to Cas and Dean at the other.

Cas was turning down the sheets when Dean entered the bedroom, his dark buttondown hanging open. He had several small pink scars from the accident still noticeably visible and they made Dean's heart clench in remembered fear, a lurch of protectiveness he wondered sometimes if he would ever lose.

It was why he checked the news for fire coverage, why he didn't know if he would ever be able to stop, no matter what Cas threatened.

"You're staring," Cas said drily, shrugging the shirt from his shoulders. He began to unbutton his pants and Dean grunted in protest.

"That's my favorite part," he complained.

Cas winked. "So get over here and get busy, Mr. Winchester. The night is young."

"Not that young," Dean said gruffly, rounding the end of the bed and pulling Cas to him, too rough, emotions running high. He yanked the zipper down and pushed the jeans off his hips.

Cas raised his eyebrows but didn't respond, kicking the jeans from his ankles and shoving them aside with a toe. He waited for Dean's next move, understanding instinctively there was something else at play here that Dean needed to work through.

Dean ran his hands over Cas' chest, feather light touches of fingers and palms. He dipped his head to taste the edge of each healing mark, with the tip of his tongue and a brush of his lips. His fingers dug into the meaty bit above Cas' hips before he slid them under the elastic of his boxer briefs and firmly gripped his ass. Then he covered Cas' mouth with his own, hoping he wouldn't taste Dean's desperation.

It was the smoke still lingering on his skin.

It drove Dean crazy because it was familiar and so fucking Cas that he couldn't imagine never smelling it again. But he hated it because it had the power to take everything away from him, from them, and it likely would always be an unknown variable.

Cas cupped Dean's face, gentling the kiss. He hissed when Dean rolled their hips together. "Dean."

"Shhh," Dean whispered and slipped Cas' boxers off. He followed them to the floor, kneeling at Cas' feet and cupping the back of a calf as he slid them over his feet. When he angled forward to place soft kiss on each thigh, Cas grabbed a handful of his hair to steady himself.

"Jesus fuck," Cas moaned, pulling lightly on the short strands. "Get up here."

"Mmmm mmm," Dean murmured, hands gripping the backs of his thighs, the round globes of his ass, nuzzling soft skin along the way, Cas' erection bumping his chin, his cheek. He ignored it, swallowing the extra saliva that pooled in his cheeks as his body begged to taste.

"Dean," Cas whined. "Babe."

"Shhh," Dean shushed him, sucking a dark bruise at the juncture of his hip and thigh, teeth worrying the skin until it was marked up. Mine. He could feel Cas' legs trembling and smiled. When he slid his fist down Cas' length, it elicited a taut punch of air, moving the hair on the top of Dean's head. "Get on the bed."

Cas complied, dazed and hot and achingly hard. He moved to touch himself, desperate, but Dean was there, spreading over him, catching his hands and placing them beside his head on the pillow.

"No touching," Dean said. "Not tonight." He rolled his palm over the tip of Cas' erection and Cas arched off the bed with a groan.

"Goddammit," Cas breathed. "Are you getting naked any time soon? Because I need your skin against mine."

Dean huffed and shook his head. "Shhh. No talking either. I've been planning this for a while."

Cas' eyes darkened even further and he nodded once, fists clenching in the pillowcase.

Dean sat back on his heels and studied Cas in the moonlight that bathed the old bed. He was tan and lithe and muscular, and even with the scars, everything about him made Dean's mouth water. And he planned to touch and taste every square inch of him tonight.

Might as well start at the top.

He kissed Cas' forehead, then eyelids, then cheeks. He licked a swipe across rough jaw, and sucked an earlobe between his teeth.

Cas' lips parted in anticipation but Dean ignored his mouth, reversing his direction until he had paid identical attention to the opposite side of Cas' face.

Then he moved to his neck.

In the months since they'd been together, Dean had discovered that Cas was most definitely a neck man, so he was very thorough here, leaving no pore untouched. He might have forgotten himself and sucked too hard just beneath his Adam's apple, evidence of his attentions that would be hard to hide tomorrow.

By the time he made it to Cas' nipples, the man under him was chanting a mixed up litany of Oh God, Dean, and fuckfuckfuckplease. Dean had never had the willpower to spend as much time as he wanted here, investigating Cas' desires both known and unknown, but he knew the area was sensitive. Deciding tonight was a night for experimentation, he flicked one with his nail, back and forth, back and forth, and watched Cas bite into his lower lip to restrain his moans. So that's good.

Then he tried rubbing it in small circles, encouraging the little nub to life, around and around, over and over until Cas' eyes popped open and he growled a vociferous, "Dean."

Dean chuckled and ignored him, continuing his ministrations until he got another breathless oh fuck, until Cas' chest was damp with sweat and flushed a deep rose. He licked it once before sucking it into his mouth and Cas forgot himself, grabbing the back of Dean's head and cursing again.

Dean pulled the clenched fingers from his hair and replaced the hands on the pillow as he dropped one last kiss to the overworked skin.

Then he started on the other side.

By the time he had made it to hip level, Cas was a mess. He was incoherent, switching between writhing and pulling at Dean's hands until Dean had to get stern and slap them back onto the pillow, and lying rigid and panting, legs wantonly parting, dick jumping when Dean's mouth came within half a foot.

Dean ignored it.

He kissed all around the hair at his groin, tiny biting kisses, until Cas warned he was close, even untouched, so Dean relented, grabbing his cock in a tight grip at the base to withhold his release.

Cas might have cried a little then.

Dean delicately licked the slit, beads of precome meeting each swipe of his tongue, the deep pink head swollen and engorged. His staunch control waning, Dean hefted one of Cas' knees over his shoulder. He hadn't had time to grab the lube, and as far gone as Cas was, he probably wouldn't be able to do everything he wanted to.

There's always tomorrow, he mused.

He licked again, this time flattening his tongue and covering the head in a broad swath. Cas was a shaking, trembling mess, his lower lip now a bright, blood red it had been clenched between his teeth for so long. Dean continued the pattern of gentle suction alternating with long, broad strokes until Cas moaned, voice guttural, lost.

"Dean, please, please."

Dean swallowed him down without warning and Cas' back arched off the bed as he came.

He never made a sound.

Dean worked him through the messy release, sucking him gently until Cas pushed him away with loving hands that cupped his jaw, urging him higher. Dean obliged, climbing up his body, dropping kisses to each landmark he had visited, being gentle with the skin he had abused, licking into Cas' mouth for a deep kiss, their first since they had fallen into bed.

"What the fucking hell was that?" Cas breathed, still trembling, and Dean gathered him close, rubbing warmth into his back, his arms, and down to his thighs.

Dean didn't want to talk though. He wanted to kiss and nuzzle, and Cas was okay with that, although he could feel Dean, still hard against his leg. When he moved to touch him, Dean shook his head.

"Not yet," he protested.

"You have balls of steel," Cas muttered, and palmed the front of his jeans anyway. The denim was rough against his oversensitive skin, and Dean made it worse by rolling on top of him and rocking down.

"I just want you inside of me, that's all," Dean whispered, kissing him again, linking their fingers, hands tangled in the damp sheets.

"Babe, I may never come again," Cas laughed softly. "That was amazing." He lifted his head to kiss Dean's cheek. "You were amazing. Holy fuck."

"That's because I fantasize about you twenty-four hours a day," Dean complained good naturedly. "Getting you naked, having my way with you. It's like a religion now. I worship at the house of Cas." When he rolled his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, Cas gasped.

"And you do it well."

Dean grinned and kissed him. "How long?" For all his bravado, he was sweating bullets.

"Probably at least fifteen minutes. You sure you don't want me to do a little bodily worship of my own?"

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Do you think you're capable at this point?"

Cas held up one hand and the fingers held the slightest tremor. He grinned. "Maybe if you bring all the parts up here to my mouth."

Dean groaned at the unexpected visual. "Oh God, don't give me any ideas."

But Cas' hands were already on his belt and fly, divesting Dean of his pants and boxers as quickly as he could.

When he urged Dean into place, straddling his chest, he grinned. "I may or may not let you come."

"Fuck you," Dean chuckled, holding onto the old iron bedframe with both hands. They would have to be very careful; he would hate to have to tell Cas' doctor, who just so happened to be his brother in law, that Dean sat on him during sex and re-broke his ribs.

His eyes fell closed when Cas' hands slid up the back of thighs and pushed his hips forward. They had propped Cas on three pillows, giving him the most comfortable angle, and when his lips closed around Dean, it was like flipping a switch.

Dean struggled valiantly for control, fighting the desire to snap into Cas' willing mouth and throat, but God, how he wanted to. It was hot and tight and wet, with a blissful suction that milked him into a damn near delirious state.

When Cas slid a damp finger into him from behind, Dean snapped forward, then apologized profusely, unable to completely halt the rhythmic rocking of his hips. Cas continued to suck him, swirling his tongue around the head on every third or fourth pass, a steady, increasing rhythm that drove Dean mad. The finger that provided a counter thrust grazed his prostate every time he rocked back, fueling the anticipation and his grinding need for release.

When Cas pulled his finger free, Dean whimpered and rocked back, seeking it again. The blunt head of Cas' cock met his ass and he sighed in relief.

Cas popped off, stroking him soothingly, licking his lips. "Grab the lube, baby."

Dean was the one trembling now, hands fumbling with the lid until he spilled too much into his palm. He twisted awkwardly around to slick Cas up, the excess dripping between his legs, probably staining their fancy new 600-thread count sheets.

"Sorry," He grinned, wiping his hands on his t-shirt, a little surprised to find he was still wearing it.

"You gonna take that off?" Cas asked, teasing up the hem.

Dean lifted his arms and let him push it over his head, then dropped to the bed, pulling Cas on top of him, ignoring his protests. "You on top," he said huskily.

Cas rolled his eyes. "I could have done it the other way. I like you sitting above me. Makes me feel like I'm at the rodeo," he winked.

Dean shook his head. "No. Not until you're one hundred percent healed. Like, maybe next year. Or the year after that."

Cas settled between his thighs, sliding his hands under Dean's butt so he could position him. "We'll see about that," he grinned.

Dean scowled. Sexy bastard was probably right; he had absolutely zero willpower when it came to Cas.

When Cas rocked into him a moment later, Dean had to swallow a heartfelt groan, lest he wake the baby, the teenager down the hall, and the neighbors across the street. Goddamn it was good, though.

Neither of them lasted long after that, and Cas collapsed on top of him in a molten, sweaty lump of overheated skin and damp kisses.

Dean knew he should get up and grab a towel or something.

But he couldn't feel his legs.

Cas' nose was buried in the soft spot just behind Dean's ear. "Dean," he mumbled, too tired to lift his head and praying Dean could comprehend his garbled words.

"Mmmm?"

"Happy birthday."

Dean grinned, blissful and worn out. He patted Cas' ass sleepily. "Rest up, fireman Novak. That was only number one on the birthday wish list."

Cas huffed against his neck. "Dear God."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Dean replied with a yawn.

When Cas began to lightly snore into his ear a moment later, Dean decided the towel could probably wait.

...


End file.
